When Love Dies
by dianakotori
Summary: A short tag to the upcoming Episode 12x21 'Green Light', based on an idea I had while watching the promo (Warning: Spoilers for Episode 12x20 'Unforgettable'). When love dies, all that's left is hate, and hate can make you do things you never thought were possible.


_Welcome. Thank you for your interest in this story._

 _It's just a crazy idea I had when I watched the promo for the episode 12x21 "Green Light". It may or may not be a spoiler… we'll find out together._

 _I'm not a native English speaker. Every critique concerning the story, including spelling and grammar, will be highly appreciated._

* * *

 **WHEN LOVE DIES**

 **A Criminal Minds Fan Fiction.**

The electric wheelchair squealed once again on the polished concrete floor of the loft. The woman sitting on it had been guiding it back and forth, back and forth between her desk and the window for the longest time. However, when she glanced at the clock on top of her desk, she found out that only six minutes had passed since the last time she checked it.

She sighed and tried to swallow a lump that appeared suddenly in her throat.

 _Why is she taking so goddamned long?_ She thought. _What she had to do wasn't hard at all…_

She went back to the window, yet again.

"Open curtain," an electronic female voice said. The beige fabric protecting the frame opened only a little, to let her have a glimpse of the outside world. The blue sky, the sunlight on the buildings across the road, people walking on the street with no care in the world…

She couldn't help the memory that rushed into her mind in that moment.

 _She'd been standing in front of this same dirty window, hiding behind these same thick curtains and looking at the same blue sky. She'd been buried in this place for ten months already, and the only contact she'd had with the outside world during those dark days had been a voice. The very sweet voice of a man on the phone._

 _That day, they had been talking about one of his heroes, Stephen Hawking. She said she admired him because he had prevailed over the adversity of his condition, and still his mind flourished to become one of the greatest in the history of humankind._

When she said that, she didn't even imagine that one day she'd find herself just like the famous physicist: Wheelchair bound, unable to fulfil her most essential needs, such as going to the bathroom or cleaning herself… even incapable to talk or eat something thicker than baby food. She couldn't even see properly. Her left eye had been blinded and now was staring into the void… Into a place as dark and empty as her soul. Her mind, however, was still intact, trapped in this shell of a body for the rest of her life.

This hadn't been caused by a disease, not even an accident… It all had been caused by a man.

The phone man.

It had been four years... and she still could hear his musical, contagious laughter, just as if it'd happened yesterday. But for her, that chuckle was not kind and sweet anymore. In her mind, it only held derision.

A tear ran down her cheek, she wasn't even capable of wiping it. She clenched her teeth, wanting to get out of the wheelchair, wanting to scream at the top of her lungs that she _hated_ him. She hated his voice, she hated his laugh, she hated his face, his beautiful eyes that were the last thing she saw when…

It all had come out of nowhere, when a person started to stalk her and she was forced to leave everything behind. She abandoned her fiancée, her career, her family… even her dying mother in order to escape.

Somehow, Maeve managed to succeed, until the day she stupidly thought the stalker had finally got bored and left her alone. She assumed it was time to recover her life. It was time to meet the owner of that sweet voice on the phone.

Big mistake.

Because the woman that had been spying on her never truly stopped. She found the phone man and decided she wanted him for her, on top of all the other things she stole.

 _I should've let Diane keep him, kill him, do whatever she wanted with him…_

She had trusted Spencer. She had trusted him with her life, she hoped he would come to the rescue like a knight in shining armour… but he failed miserably. Instead of freeing her, his words only served to have her shot in the head, in a botched murder-suicide.

It had been four years. She spent three and a half of them in a coma, in a medical facility at the north of D.C. During that time, her mother died of cancer. She didn't even have the chance to say goodbye. Her father had been there, right by her bedside all the time, never giving up hope, taking care of her until the day she woke up.

And when she did, she found herself locked in the prison of her body, for the rest of her days.

She learned that her father hid from everyone the fact that she didn't die, but she wanted to see Spencer. She wanted to let him know she was alive, so she sent someone to find him, follow him, spy every single one of his moves. Inadvertently, Maeve used pawns to do to him what Diane Turner did to her.

One day, she got some pictures of him in the park. On many of them, he was holding a baby in his arms and talking happily to an older child. Maeve couldn't believe it. After saying he would die for her… after all her suffering and pain… Spencer forgot her and went on with his life.

She felt angry and jealous. All the love she felt for him turned into hatred in an instant. How could he live on after what was done to her? After she _almost died_? She couldn't allow it. If she wasn't happy, if she wasn't free, he wouldn't be either. No matter what she had to do, how much money she'd have to spend, how many pawns she'd have to sacrifice, she would keep him imprisoned for the rest of his life… just like she was.

"Close curtain," the mechanical voice said calmly, in complete contrast with her feelings. The fabric hid the glass again, and she went back to her desk, controlling the wheelchair with the blinking of her right eye.

A ringtone broke the silence of the room. She approached her computer screen and found out the caller was precisely who she was waiting for.

"Answer phone," the robotic voice said. Maeve heard a couple of clicks coming from the speakers, and after the communication was established, the machine continued. "About time."

 _"Hi boss!"_ Lindsey Vaughan said cheerily. Maeve could hear a woman sobbing in the background. _"I'm sorry! Our business took more time than I expected, but it was worthy, I promise. I got some interesting footage for you."_

"Alright," the computer spoke monotonously. "Did you have any problems."

 _"Not at all. I just let the mice have some fun for a while. I took Diana to visit her son, as you told me."_

 _At least I gave you the chance to say goodbye to your mother, dickhead._ Maeve thought, closing her eyes. She could hear some banging through the phone.

"Is she ok."

 _"Yes, boss,"_ Lindsey chuckled. _"I think she just realized we're not going back home. This isn't going to be nice. Poor, poor Diana."_

"She can't be harmed, do you understand. You won't be paid if something happens. I'll give you to the BAU."

 _"I know, I know. Don't worry."_

"Now the footage."

 _"Right."_

Moments later, a ding let Maeve know that a file had been received. Without another word toward Lindsey, she hung up the phone.

"Open file," the machine said immediately.

When she saw _him_ , her heart skipped a beat.

He was dishevelled, pale and had grown a beard. He had lost at least ten pounds since the last time she saw pictures of him. She could see, at first, hesitation in his sunken eyes, while he was uncertain about who Lindsey was. Then, there was recognition and fear, as the mercenary took his mother away from him. It was the same desperate look he had the moment he said he would die for her. Maeve couldn't see him anymore, his image replaced by the prison hallway, but as Lindsey and Diana walked away from him, she could hear him banging on a door and screaming, until the noise faded out and the video stopped.

"Play again," the machine said. As the same scene repeated on the screen, Maeve felt a strange mixture of pleasure and guilt. To see him like this, so sad and helpless, stirred a feeling she thought had died, in that fateful moment when the bullet bore through her skull.

 _Spencer…_

-v-v-v-


End file.
